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Dis
The City of Dis is a city-state and headquarters of the Disian Protectorate. Situated in the heart of the Golden Plateau in the southern hemisphere of Gehenna, Dis has been a major settlement for almost a millennia. It was established by a loose collection of nomadic tribes, who named it the Oasis, but the name was changed after it was conquered by the Red Horde. The core of the city is situated on top of a series of rocky mesas and is referred to as the City Proper. The outskirts of the city are predominately comprised of shanty towns and makeshift factories and make up the large percentage of the total size of the metropolis. Dis is the leading city in terms of business and has retained its position as the dominant political, economic and military power on the planet. It boasts the world's largest trade market and is home to the greatest concentration of businesses. It is the world's most visited city in regards to trade and religious pilgrimage and hosts more high-net-worth individuals than anywhere else on the planet. The city is the host of the annual Grand Contest and plays host to the highest number of entertainment facilities on the Golden Plateau. As the seat of Mr Schratz and the site of the God-Ship, Dis is regarded as a holy city and sees over a million pilgrims visit its wall every year. Dis is the home of the Technopathic Orders, the official church of the God-Ship, and has the highest concentration of holy sites and buildings on the planet. In the centuries after being conquered by the Red Horde, Dis has become the most lucrative and powerful cities on the planet, traits that the Disian Committee has utilised to expand their influence across the surface of Gehenna. Despite its strict tolls and harsh regulations, Dis remains the most visited city on the planet. Etymology The City of Dis owes its name to the long narrative poem The Divine Comedy by the fourteenth-century poet Dante Alighieri. In the context of the story, Dis encompasses the sixth through to the ninth circles of Hell. Beyond the walls of the city are the sinners who acted out of malice and wickedness, including the Heretics, the Violent, the Frauds and the Traitors. The name Dis itself comes from ancient Roman mythology, where Dis Pater is the ruler of the underworld and is named as such in the sixth book of Virgil's "Aeneid", one of the principal influences on Dante and his depiction of Hell. In the Aeneid, the protagonist enters the "desolate halls and vacant realm of Dis" with his guide, the Sibyl, who correspond in The Divine Comedy ''to "Dante" as the speaker of the poem and his guide, Virgil. The name serves as an ironic reference as the city is the holiest site on Gehenna. History Pre-History In the lost early history of Gehenna, the Golden Plateau was once covered in a rich ocean, and the mesas that are home to the city proper were a series of islands populated by the now regressed alien species known as the Glob. The location was chosen by the ancestral Glob as the home of their central command centre, marked by a column of indestructible metal that would later be named the Mast. After the Glob lost control of the planet's atmosphere processors and ultimately the artificial gravity, the landscape surrounding the mesas began to regress into a barren wilderness and became pot-marked by star-ship collisions. As a result of the tumutuous times, the Glob regressed into a feral state and retreated into the bowls of the planet and the site of the Mast and the control centre that lay beneath it was lost to time. Age of Warlords For millennia, the mesas remained abandoned, touched only by the fierce winds. The Mast remained the sole indicator of the site that housed the ancient control centre of the planet and endured the punishment of a thousand impact shockwaves from the human star-ships the came in ever-increasing numbers. After centuries, the population of stragglers and cast-aways began to grow until a ghost of a society was born. These early Gehennans were a nomadic people who prized the treasures of the wrecks above all else. As the population grew, so too did the number and size of the tribes. Fighting between these tribes was a common part of life and became the staple of the first recorded age of the planet; the Age of Warlords. It was during this bloody and chaotic time that the first nomads discovered the rocky mesas at the heart of the Golden Plateau. Unlike the scarred, blasted wastelands that surrounded the plateau, the mesas were lush with flora and rife with fertile soil and water, necessary traits for farming. The sheer cliff faces provided a perfect natural barrier from the harsh winds and scorching heats of the salt flats and the lands surrounding it were rich in uncovered derelict star-ships ripe for the taking. This isolated landmass in the middle of a dangerous land was the perfect place to call home; it was an Oasis. At first, the paranoid nature of the nomads prevented them from settling on the mesas. Staying in one place for too long was a death sentence on the surface of Gehenna and the Oasis seemed too good to be true for most of the people who discovered it. Yet, the nomads felt compelled to come back to this region. It was not because of the rich lands and natural defences. It was because of the Mast. The towering spire of pure, gleaming metal was enough to tickle to greedy urges of any nomad looking for a quick penny from salvage. It coiled out of the solid bedrock ground as if it were a protruding rib from a long deceased carcass and shimmered in the light of the planet's parent star. Naturally, the people of Gehenna flocked like magpies to it and each desired it for their own. Yet, try as they might, the Mast would not tumble from its foundations. As the years passed by, word began to spread amongst the local tribes of an immovable tower of metal deep in the Golden Plateau. Many of the squabbling warlords and chiefs scoffed at the idea of it and set off into the salt flats to prove their point. Every year, more and more tribes came to the Oasis to test themselves against the Mast, and every year the Mast remained just as it had been for millennia. At first, arrivals were sporadic and marked with skirmishes and violent spats. But as the years turned into decades, a rhythm began to appear. Attempting to topple the Mast was becoming an irresistible challenge to the nomads, even more so than war. The informal event became known throughout the edges of the Golden Plateau as ''The Contest. Soon the mesas became a busy settlement diverse with different cultures from all across Gehenna. Many aspiring businessmen realised the lucrative opportunities of the Oasis and began to establish their bases of operations on the cliff tops. The permanent population of the settlement began to grow every year and reached four thousand by the turn of the century. An informal government was established, an oligarchy comprised of the warlords and chieftains who had set aside their differences to capitalise on the mutually beneficial position of the Oasis. The settlement was evolving into something more and soon word spread of a city in the middle of the desert, a city home to an immovable spire of metal, where any person could start anew. And, like a virulent disease, the stories spread throughout the populace, until they reached the ears of a man, a Man who Builds Rockets. The Siege of Dis The war that became known as the Siege of Dis was the turning point for the planet. As the monumental Red Horde rolled across the land, growing and expanding like a plague, it soon became apparent to all that the great army was heading for the Golden Plateau. A few deserters and nomads spared from the wrath of the Horde by the enigmatic Man who Tells Stories managed to get word of this plan to the ruling oligarchy of the Oasis, who at the time were blissfully unaware of the encroaching enemy. At once, the people of the Golden Plateau readied themselves to defend their way of life. They had the advantage; they held strategic knowledge of every cliff, cave and crevice of the mesas and were driven by the desire to defend their homeland, while the attackers were foreigners, exhausted and worn by the many months of marching. Yet, nothing could have prepared them for the sheer vastness of the Red Horde. The defenders had already devised a complicated defence strategy by the time the attackers showed up. They would utilise the subterranean tunnels that honeycombed the mesas as a shelter from the certainty of artillery barrages and once their opponent's guard was down, would unleash a barrage of fire of their own to cripple the attackers. The plan proved to be ineffective. Upon laying their eyes on the Red Horde, the defenders were right to believe that the entire world had rallied against them. Within the massive ranks of the endless army stood the banners of more than a hundred desert clans, once divided and scattered. There were the secretive cave dwellers of the high places, the violent, cannibalistic blood worshippers of the Northern Wastes and, most haunting of all, row upon row of faceless, red-clad warriors, the veterans of the Red Horde. At their front, clear as day, the people of the mesas could she the shinning, glorious splendour of the Silver Frond, the leader of the Red Horde, and the Man Who Builds Rockets himself. Yet, the people of the Mesas did not abandon hope. The army was vast for sure, but numbers mattered little on the narrow passageways and cliffs of the plateau. Rank upon rank of hardened, zealous nomads charged upon the Plateau, and row upon row were beaten back. When the Red Horde unleashed a barrage of apocalyptic fire upon the mesas, the people hid with the dead caves, protected by the immovable bedrock. The Red Horde used makeshift pods, loading with their fiercest fighters, and hurled them at the weak spots in an attempt to gain a foothold, yet the people were ready and had laced the surface of their mesas with mines, traps and feral beasts. The people were hardy, and had adapted well to their nightmare situation. The weeks turned into months, and the months turned into years, yet the Red Horde still continued their siege, resolute and crazed as ever. The people in the mesa, trapped in their caves, caked in dust and robbed of their freedom to roam free on the once pristine desert plateau, could not say the same. Yet, no matter the assault, the people of the mesas continued to fight against all the odds. It was this sheer willpower and strength, even while faced with certain doom, that impressed Mr Schratz. He knew that no matter their power and ferocity, the people were too heavily entrenched to ever be removed within a lifetime. In the end, the military might of the Silver Frond was not the victor, but instead the machinations of Schratz. Each day, Schratz would parade the front lines of the war zone, just out of range, telling his stories about the universe beyond, of the planet and of the prophecy. These words, filled with imaginative power, seeped into the minds of the more demoralised of the peoples. Stories began to spread around the oil lamps and chemical fires of the Arch Angel Magos and of the planets made of shining glass, of treasures and luxuries beyond even the reach of the mightiest chieftains, and of unity. Soon, the disenfranchised amongst the peoples began to believe in Schratz, in his incredible vision and in their dark hovels, plotted acts of vile treachery. The Red Horde awoke to see the gates drawn. The converted amongst the peoples had overthrown the ruling establishment on the mesas and opened the ruined city to Schratz. The legions of the Red Horde, themselves battered and bloodied by the siege, marched wearily into the city, lead by the encouraging calls of the charming and delightful Mr Schratz. When the Silver Frond confronted the traitors of the camp, they refused to parlay, wishing instead to have an audience with the prophet who had lit up their minds. Little did they know that Schratz, having experienced his fair share of treachery in the past, would never endure a traitor, even if they had handed him victory. Before the eyes of all the peoples and the Red Horde, Schratz and his fanatical body guard restrained, beat and ultimately executed each of the traitors. Appalled by their act, Schratz openly apologied to the elders of the plateau and embraced each of them as if they were close friends. There, along with all the elders, the Silver Frond and her lieutanents, Schratz dictated his edicts. Like moths to a lamp, all were mesmerised by him, the Man who Builds Rockets. The City of Dis Structure Dis is the largest metropolis on Gehenna and owes its size to its strategic and cultural significance. As such the city has evolved to incorporate numerous districts, each of which is specifically tailored to the needs of the people. The main districts of Dis are situated atop a collection of large protruding mesas and are linked by a series of suspension bridges. These mesas, known as Dis proper, are home to the majority of the Disian populace as well as the numerous businesses that utilise the city’s importance for their own ends. The dust and salt plains that surround the city, unofficially termed “the suburbs” are slums inhabited by the people of Gehenna who have come to Dis in the search of a better life, only to be barred entry from the city through fear of overpopulation. These two regions are connected by a series of elevators built into the formidable structures known as the Harbour Walls. The Harbour Walls are massive man-made battlements that surround the most affluent parts of the Disian Mesas and act as docking stations for the massive Rigs to unload their supplies and as an impenetrable defensive network should Dis ever come under attack. The majority of the Districts are referred to as Habs. The Habs are residential and commercial areas filled with towering spires and factories built from the wreckage of a thousand ships. As these buildings are created with little regard to safety it is not uncommon for a tower block to collapse without notice, an event nicknamed by the people of Dis as a Timber. While numerous people die as a result of these “Timbers”, the city rejoices as the eager opportunists have the chance of acquiring the land for themselves. Whoever is seen to be at the top of the mound when the city guard arrives is proclaimed the new proprietor of it. As such, city planning is null and void in these districts. They are a mess of twisting roads and tunnels, random deformed towers of apartments and sprawling complexes retrofitted to suit any job the inhabitant needs. Often the citizens of Dis go days without ever seeing sunlight, a blessing for some, and utilities such as plumbing and electricity are makeshift and under the discretion of the landowner. Apartments outfitted with plumbing, water and electricity are highly sought after prizes and a rarity for the poorer people of Dis. There are a total of five Habs that make up the majority of Dis. They are divided either by the large main roads that allow for the transport of goods through the city or by the canyons that divide the mesas. Turf wars between the people of these Habs are frequent as those who inhabit them take a certain pride in their abode. The mobs that patriotically tend to their Hab are known rather creatively as Ones, Twos, Threes, Fours and Fives. Their members are often tattooed with their respective number to identify themselves from the others, a tradition copied from the warring nomads and clans that inhabit the world of Gehenna. The other districts are designed to cater to a specific role in society and as such retain a greater amount of order compared to the five Habs. These districts tend to the needs of the people be it medicine, religion, entertainment or commerce. While the Habs are littered with small markets, medicine huts and entertainment centres their meagre attempts are dwarfed by these districts. The first of the districts is known as Doc-Town. Doc-Town is situated to the far-east of Dis on top of the tallest of the mesas that make it up. It is here the scientists, doctors and pseudo-medicine men make their labs and clinics. The reason for it is that Doc-Town’s elevated height compared to the rest of Dis provides it with a glorious view of the City and the God-Ship, a welcome and calming sight for anyone who is about to have their limbs replaced with mechanical tendrils. Like the Habs, it is a chaotic mass of huts that have been built atop one another in a mad competition to gain the best view possible. The Doc-Town mesa is connected to the far broader mesas by a single suspension bridge, itself littered with healing huts. The second district of note is the Grand Bazaar. The Grand Bazaar sits at the centre of the city, fulfilling the role as the commercial hub of Dis and in essence the largest and most prosperous market on Gehenna. It is a massive open circular field where merchants erect their stalls and sell their wares to the many thousands of patrons that come to trade. The markets are a hotbed of activity. Bartering, scuffles and deal-making are the life of the market and the deafening sound created by a thousand screaming merchants and auctioneers can be heard throughout the city and leave patrons with ringing in their ears. Permanent construction is banned in the Grand Bazaar, a decree enacted by the Tyrant of Dis himself. At the centre of the Grand Bazaar is the Mast, a vast, twisting spire of indestructible metal that served as the cultural basis for the early settlers of the region. Once every year the Grand Bazaar is emptied to make way for the Contest. The Contest is a tradition of old where armies and warlords come from all across Gehenna to attempt to pull the Mast from its foundations. So far no one has succeeded and the Mast continues to stand as a beacon for anyone looking for the Grand Bazaar. To the South East of the City lies that third district of note, the Battle Block. The Battle Block is a collection of stages that vary in size. Some arenas are small, one on one fight cages surrounded by a collection of seats while others, the Great Arena being the best example, are massive coliseums designed to seat thousands of individuals and play host to vast battles that rival even those in the wastes of Gehenna. The purpose of the Battle Block is twofold. First, the people of Gehenna are an aggressive bunch, prone to feuds and violence. Having decreed bloodshed to be outlawed in the streets, the Tyrant of Dis commissioned the construction of a number of arenas where old grievances can be settled without the threat of half the city being burnt to the ground. The second reason is that the people need entertainment and what better entertainment than to watch the greatest warlords and prospectors of Gehenna battle each other to the death over honour and glory. Every day there are new spectacles to enjoy, from vicious slave cage fights to mad, fuel injected death races. For only a small fee, anyone can experience the thrill of a lifetime. The fourth district, but by no means the least important, is known as Shangri-la. Shangri-la is the home of the most affluent people of Dis and the main focus for the thousands of preachers and holy men who come to the city to scream their sermons. The district is located to the North West of the city and is bordered by Habs One and Two. It is a gleaming polis whose architecture is pristine and ordered, at least compared to the chaos of the other districts. Its main road, known as the Golden Path, is the longest straight road in Dis and runs directly into the heart of the district. The Golden Path and the paths that worm their way out from it are littered was hundreds of churches and temples and populated by the mad preachers of Dis who venerate the God-Ship as the one true salvation. The closer one gets to the heart of the district so does the number of shrines and sanctums increase, each claiming to speak in the name of their God. Scuffs are common in this district as the preachers compete to woe the most lost souls to their cause. In the heart of the District sits the Bastion, the imposing fortress of Mr Schratz himself and the sole access route to the God Ship. The Bastion is surrounded by an impenetrable shielded wall guarded at all times by the tyrant’s personal bodyguard, the Praetorians, and the surrounding ring of land is protected against any form of construction. The Bastion itself is a massive black fortress of numerous spires and halls and dwarfs even the lavish towers and habitats of Shangri-la. The final location in Dis is the mesa that is home to the God-Ship itself. The mesa is surrounded by a massive shield wall strong enough to repel any attack, meaning that entry from the outside is impossible. The mesa itself is a myriad of factories and refineries that convert the tithes of salvage and technology into useful components to add to the ever-growing God-Ship. Civilian traffic in this region of Dis is strictly forbidden and access to the God-Ship is only permitted by Schratz himself. Those loyal servants that make their home on the God-Ship’s mesa are the most revered of the Tech-Priesthood of Schratz. They are the architects of the ship and some of the most powerful individuals on Gehenna itself. The only method of reaching the God-Ship is by a single bridge that protrudes from the Bastion in Shangri-la. Should anyone attempt to access the God-Ship by other means then they will be vaporised by the shield wall or destroyed by the considerable defences that surround it. Some preachers have gotten into the habit of sacrificing people to the God-Ship’s defences as they believe that their soul and body will help aid in its completion. In total, the city is a reflection of the world which birthed it. It is a maddening metropolis seemingly without order, where anyone can achieve success should they have the ambition and strength necessary to gain it. It is a testament to Schratz’s power as its walls, streets and markets have withstood the test of time where all others have fallen. Without Dis, Gehenna would not be the land of opportunity it would be today. Culture The Suburbs Dis, as the largest and oldest of all of the settlements, has a rich history and a diverse culture. The citizens who trade in the cities many markets and conduct business at the entrances of the Harbour Walls come from every corner of the planet. Here you will find a mercenary Triact converse and joke with an aloof clergyman of the sacred God-Ship. In Dis, all are welcome, save the foolish enemies of the Prophet himself and those the Committee sees fit to ban from entering the city proper. In the outskirts of Dis, in the shanty towns that stretch across the last vestiges of hard land not consumed by the dunes and the winds, certain traditions have begun to arise. Knowing that most of their lot will never enter the city without some form of skill or payment, the youth of the wretches train day and night to become acolytes of a particular organisation that has access beyond the Walls. Many makeshift training grounds and camps exist in the slums, where the young test their metal to be noticed by a scouting pit runner, opportunistic individuals always on the lookout for fresh meat for their arenas, or one of the ominous Black Guard of the city watch. As a tradition, these camps often challenge one another at particular feats, including who can rob the most homes in one night, or who can steal the pouch of the most well-defended merchant in the slums. These dangerous traditions are a necessity, as the people who call these places their home have nowhere else to go, and nothing to entertain them. Amongst the more religious members of the slums, cultists and fanatics eager to earn the gaze of the clergy, lynchings and religious purges are a regular occurrence. For many of the cults, those who have been deemed a heretic, a difficult thing to do, are to be sacrificed to the point defences of the God-Ship. After anointments are made and prayers are sung, the cults often send the accused into the firing line of the guns, stating that if they are truly loyal to the cause, the God-Ship would show them mercy. It never does and the barren land that surrounds it is littered with the ashes of many people who have been vapourised. Sometimes, depending on the level of fanaticism, some cults ritualistically sacrifice their own members to the God-Ship, believing that each offered soul will hasten its completion. Many people find such ceremonies entertaining to watch, including some of the clergymen of the church itself. While sport and fanaticism are popular, most only seek to enter the city itself, and so many of the traditions are designed to attract attention. The most popular of these is the bi-weekly Climb, an event the often attracts enormous crowds. As promised by the Black Guard who stand ever vigilant on the wall, any man who can scale the sheer surfaces may walk the streets of the city proper unhindered. The people of the slums try all manner of techniques to climb the Harbour Walls, including ropes, spikes and even makeshift jet-packs. Only a few have ever managed to scale the wall without falling, and the scale of these walls means that many never get the opportunity to try a second time. Throwing stones at Rigs and mutants is also a common pastime for children and adults alike. City Proper The main metropolis of Dis is a melting pot of cultures from all across the world. In the five habs and purpose-built districts, there are numerous traditions that go back many centuries, some even before the Age of Warlords itself. The equally diverse people of Dis take pride in their habits and often squabble over which is the most accurate. Yet, none of these traditions matters when compared to the supremacy of the God-Ship. It is common in the households of Dis for little shrines to be erected in the image of the God-Ship. Here, the faithful tend to their daily prayers and rituals. Often, members of a family unit will create handmade trinkets and illustrations to appease the creative spirit of their mechanical god with the sigils of the four colleges carved into a piece of scrap ship hull to signify the holy sites. The more fanatical members of Disian society spend days constructing the most elaborate vehicles, machines and weapons they can image, only to hand it over to the church as a sacrifice to the God-Ship. These acts of generosity never go unnoticed by the diocese but monetary recompense is seldom given, leaving many of these faithful mechanics and inventors penniless but reassured of their place in heaven. Due to the structural inconsistency of Dis, buildings have a habit of collapsing under their own weight. These events are uncommon but are an unusually exciting time for the city. While most other civilisations would mourn the loss of so many innocent lives, the people of Dis see this as an opportunity to get a heads up in life. Known by the slang name "Timbers", these collapses spark a riot of activity as thousands of citizens scramble to reach the summit of the mound of dust and metal. Whoever is found at the top of the mound by the Black Guard is deemed the new proprietor of the land and can build whatever they wish. Even with years of technological advancement and investment in infrastructure, Timbers are still a regular occurrence in Dis. The reason for this is the ritualistic habit of the proprietors building looming structures in an effort to imitate the God-Ship. This tradition is so ingrained in the mindset of Dis that bets are wagered over which structure would collapse next and who would be the one to lay claim to the land. Entire fortunes are won and lost in a single moment due to a few carelessly placed turrets and balconies. Aside from the Timber, the locals can find entertainment in one of the many pleasure districts of the city. High-class brothels, gambling dens and fighting pits litter the streets of Dis and are often filled at all times with patrons eager to part with their hard earned or illicit cash for a little fun away from the sands. The greatest concentration of these businesses is located in the Arena District, an entire region of the city dedicated to the spectacle. The District offers the most high octane spectacles Gehenna has to offer, all from the comfort of a bench high up in the semi-safe stands. The Arenas offer the chance of glory away from the chaos of the wastelands of the planet and gladiators who have tested their mettle against the foulest of fiends are treated as super-stars. Death races are particularly popular but one-on-one pit fights remain the most affordable and entertaining spectacle for most people. At the heart of the city lies the Grand Market, the largest place of business anywhere on the planet. Here, the cultures of a thousand clans, salvaging companies and pirate crews converse to do business. The Market is a rowdy place and one who enters the great round plaza should stay vigilant, for thievery and fraud are commonplace. Yet, once a year, the chaotic shambles of stands and stools disappear, leaving just an empty field. This is during the time of the Contest, an annual holiday that celebrates the conquering of Dis by Schratz and remembrance of the old traditions that gave birth to it. The crews of a multitude of groups take it in turns to pull the Mast, the indestructable pylon of metal, from its foundations. So far no one has achieved it but this does not stop some people from coming up with elaborate schemes and techniques to pull the Mast and claim the glory.